Drain
by wakingsparrow
Summary: On their way to investigate demonic signs, Dean and Sam inadvertently stumble on a job that threatens to dredge up old fears. And it was just supposed to be a nice friggin' trip to the beach...


**Chapter 1 **to** Drain**

"**Running on a Prayer"**

**Author:** Wakingsparrow

**Author's Note:** The idea for this popped into my head after prowling small town websites with a plethora of rich history and creepy antique photographs. Since I'm also currently working on a story that is thus far sans Sam, I couldn't help myself to getting the 'bro action' back on and starting something new. *Note to self, don't write something at 3am with out proof reading it at least 20. Seriously.

Let me know what you think! Comments are love!

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"Christ? How do these people fuel their cars? Freakin' wood stoves or something?"

Dean's hands thrummed anxiously on the worn driver's wheel as the dense pine landscape whipped past them. The fuel gage was hovering treacherously over the red line and he couldn't remember if he'd bothered to fill up the gas can two states over. 'Purple Haze' accompanied the motor's shift and purr, making him sweat to think how much juice it took the Impala to tread the waves of the road.

Soon she'd be running on fumes.

"I told you to stop in Cotton Glen; there were virtually five different stations." Sam sighed unenthusiastically and splayed out the large map on his lap again. He ran his finger along a highway line and then stilled. "The next stop looks like it might be big enough to have at least something."

The younger brother's stomach lurched as they sped down yet another swing of asphalt. They both needed to get out of the confined space and stretch their legs, but they'd been busting tail since Idaho to get back on schedule. What appeared to be signs had been popping up around a town called Crescent City for a week or so. However, it had just made the headlines again that morning and they knew they couldn't wait. Huge storms with gale force winds caused at least half a dozen people to go missing, but that wasn't the kicker. Sam had voiced his suspicion after reading several witness accounts of three _tornados_ touching down_. On the coast of California._

It hadn't taken Dean any convincing to load up the car and pull a one eighty from their intended path back to Singer's Salvage Yard. _"Babes, Sammy. Bikini clad babes. Plus I could use some sea air and lobster. Let's go."_ And that had been basically it.

…

A thin stream emerged from the woods and snaked along the far side of the road, periodically reflecting golden light into the car's interior from the evening sun. It was almost like some marine life riding the wake of the Impala, dipping out of sight and then back again with a wider breadth. Decrepit farm houses occasionally struck a whole in the green wall on the passenger side, but it wasn't likely they were inhabited from the look of their exteriors. They hadn't even seen another vehicle for at least 20 minutes.

"How far?" The driver deadpanned, discernibly going more concerned they'd be stranded in the back forty of Oregon.

"I don't know Dean, I'm not a damned GPS. I don't care if the price was 15 cents higher than it had been thirty minutes before. You should have stopped." Sam bit back.

"Yeah, yeah." The elder hunter combed his fingers through his damp hair, circumventing the jibe. "We haven't seen anything for a while, so it's gotta be close."

Just then they passed a Chevy that had marooned it's self on the gravel shoulder and it looked like it had been there a while.

"Well that's not ominous or anything." Dean gruffed.

…

The moment the engine began its death sputter, a railroad took the place of the river. Civilization came into view as they breached the crest of the road, though it would be hard to call it that. Mist smudged out the tops of the balding hills that looped the town, which were more than likely stripped of the timber for money. In the valley roof tops clustered together, skewed apart only by their phantom river companion. The outlying buildings consisted of unattractive aluminum siding and boarded up squares where windows once were, but the farther they got into town, the more things began to show life. Small shops flanked the highway, miniature tall ships inhabiting the windows and advertising the lowest prices of antiques. Several townies were taking advantage of the pleasant weather and ambled the sidewalks into the sole general store.

Luckily the incline of the road allowed them to coast until their deliverance came into sight. Dean smirked as he eased the vehicle up to the pump. "See? $2.93. Told you we'd score a better price down the road."

Sam nearly thumped his head into the dashboard in frustration, but he knew seething about it would only egg his brother on more. "We should find a place to hole up here, it's getting dark. We'll definitely be able to make Crescent City by tomorrow afternoon. I'll go pay and see what I can find out from the cashier."

A fire truck wailed passed them when he emerged from the station with a bag of assorted food and a six pack.

"Apparently there's a motel just up ahead. According to the guy inside, we're likely to be the only guests. They don't see a lot of people come through here."

"Gee, that's a shock." Dean creaked the gas cap back into place and squinted at the dimming horizon. A billow of dark smoke a few blocks over marred the coral sky. _Just a fire,_ he shivered. "Let's get to it, what I wouldn't give for a crappy bed and a few of those beers. Where are we anyway?

"I think the welcome sign said Drain, Oregon."

Two car doors slammed shut and a motor roared to life.

…

The Impala flattened patches of unkempt weeds as they rolled into the parking lot of the Stardust Motel. Dean had visibly cringed at the name, but the downward pitch of his gritted mouth increased significantly when they'd got the keys and passed the threshold of the mint colored door. Blazing comets were sloppily painted on the ceiling and the television looked like it had been spit out of a time warp from the eighties. The walls sported a nauseatingly yellow tint and the navy matted carpet had most likely been shag at some point. God knows how much filth was packed into it over the years.

"The Hilton, as usual." He heaved his duffel bag onto one of the mattresses, kicked off his boots, and tapped on the tube. "So what's for dinner?"

Sam shrugged and dumped the grocery bag onto the bed spread, revealing a succulent array of ramen, potato chips, and a can of ravioli.

"I see. Think I'll go for a brew. I'm already wound up to get out of this hole of a whistle-stop." Dean pulled off his top tee shirt as he sat on the bed and messaged his temples. "So what's the scoop on these signs, anyway? What did they start with?" He popped off the top of the bottle and gulped the liquid deeply.

The younger hunter pulled out his laptop onto an obnoxiously star shaped table and began tapping away. Before he could answer, however the TV blared a monotone alarm and a make-up caked female newscaster popped up on the display, redirecting their attention.

"_Breaking news from Drain this evening, as yet another historic home has been set ablaze. This marks the 3rd one in two weeks to have been tragically lost to flames a__nd the death toll may have gotten higher__. We have reporter Jeff Trent on the scene right now, as fire fighters are tirelessly working to minimalism the damage. What can you tell us, Jeff?_

The image flashed to a man before a light engorged building with streams of water sent up at it, doing little effect. Red lights flashed all around him and he began to speak. _"Well, Trisha, this is not a new image to the residents of this small town. As you can see behind me, it is yet another pioneer era house to have been mysteriously set afire. Four lives have already been claimed by these occurrences, but we are without word as to if anyone has been been hurt tonight. While police at this time have no suspects, this looks as though it is undoubtedly the work of the arson of the previous two homes. There has been little progress made in discovering…"_ As man yammered on about the history of the structure, Sam and Dean silently watched.

Something flickered in the corner of the screen in the background, but it wasn't flames. The brothers shot each other incredulous glances, suddenly confirming their suspicions.

"Did you-"

"That wasn't…?"

"No way."

The visage of a human figure had just appeared and then vanished beside the pyre of beams.

Dean took another swig of his beer. "Shit. Looks like we're sticking around after all."

…

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_To be continued…? Y/N?  
_


End file.
